


Shotgun

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-21
Updated: 2004-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can?t shotgun alcohol," Dom informed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> I know I promised some smut. But I'm really, really not very good at the writing of smut. It was...laughable. And kinda sad. So, all their clothes fell off. Imagine naked BillyDom and be appeased.
> 
> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

Title: Shotgun  
Rating: PG-13 for some language, might almost be an R (which would be a first for me. I’m no good at the smut).  
Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION. Fiction means “not-real events”. Don’t sue; I own NOTHING and NO ONE.  
Notes: I know I promised some smut. But I'm really, really not very good at the writing of smut. It was...laughable. And kinda sad. So, all their clothes fell off. Imagine naked BillyDom and be appeased.  
  
  
“Have you tried any of this?” Orlando asked as he approached their booth. Three of the Hobbits and an Elf had decided to go out drinking—again. It seemed to be one of their favorite activities. Elijah was currently in a corner talking to a group of hyperactive women, leaving the other three at the booth.  
  
Dom laughed. Orlando had a taste for the weirdest drinks—usually with the most disturbing names. “Nah, that’s alright, mate. I’ll leave that one to you.”  
  
Billy leaned over and took the glass. “Looks alright.” He tipped his head back and drank.  
  
Dom couldn’t help but admire the line of Billy’s throat. He wanted to—  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in the small booth. _Enough of that._ He was Dom. Ladies’ man. The Sexy Hobbit. Right? And ladies’ men don’t stare at their best mates like that. Or think about them naked. Or—  
  
“Hey, Dom, this is pretty good.” Billy was staring into the glass thoughtfully. “Want some?”  
  
“Definitely not. Looks like shit.”  
  
Orlando snatched the glass back. “You’re a drink elitist.”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A drink elitist. Y’know, if it’s not beer or whiskey, it’s a girly drink.”  
  
“No, if it’s got a girly name and an umbrella, it’s a girly drink.”  
  
“This one doesn’t have an umbrella!”  
  
“Noooo.” Dom paused. “But the one you ordered last night did.”  
  
“I’m gonna go dance, maybe save Lij from that wild pack of women,” Orlando announced, ignoring the comment. “Anyone else?”  
  
“Nah,” Billy said. “Maybe later?”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Dom watched him leave. “He’s an odd man, y’know that?”  
  
“Ah, pssh.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Billy made an impatient gesture. “Forget him.”  
  
Dom leaned closer. “Billy, you’re this close to drunk. I thought you Scots could hold your liquor better than that.”  
  
“Exactly!”  
  
“Exactly what?”  
  
“That’s why I can’t be drunk. I’m Scottish.”  
  
“I think Scots can get drunk.”  
  
“Not this one.”  
  
Dom sighed, giving up.  
  
“You sure you don’t want any of that? He left it sittin’ there. Very good.”  
  
“That’s ok.”  
  
“C’mon. I’ll shotgun ya.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Shotgun. You know what a shotgun is!”  
  
“You can’t shotgun alcohol,” Dom informed him.  
  
“’Course you can. You can shotgun anything.”  
  
“Billy, there’s no smoke. You can’t shotgun unless there’s smoke involved.”  
  
Billy raised a brow. “Oh, really?” He reached for the glass and took another drink. Then, before Dom could react, he leaned over and kissed him. And—  
  
_Ohgod, his tongue is in my mouth, and it’s cold, and good, and ohgod—_  
  
—he leaned back with a crooked smile. “Good, yeah?”  
  
Dom closed his eyes briefly. He could still taste that kiss. “Very good.”  
  
*  
  
“Maybe you should sleep over tonight, Billy.” _And I’m not asking you to because of that kiss. Not at all. Because I’m veryvery straight. Yes, I am._  
  
Billy nodded. “You know what, Dommie? I think I might be a little drunk.”  
  
“Not possible,” Dom said, trying not to laugh. “Scots don’t get drunk.”  
  
“Who the hell told you that?”  
  
Dom unlocked his door. “A Scot I met once.”  
  
“Whoever he is, he shouldn’t perplex—perpa—perpetuate stereotypes.”  
  
“I’ll be sure to tell him that next time I see him.”  
  
Dom managed to open the door and push Billy inside at the same time, mentally cursing Orlando for just dropping them off at the door without helping. Billy may not have been a huge man, but he wasn’t exactly a lightweight, either. Actually, Billy was the perfect height—not too short, not too tall. He was the perfect—everything.  
  
Dom sighed. Only he would become—overly interested—in someone like Billy. Not that there was anything wrong with Billy; he’d just never given Dom a sign that he would return that interest. As far as he knew, Billy was completely straight. But then, as far as Billy knew, so was Dom. Which he still was. With one exception.  
  
“Wha’s wrong wi’ you, Dommie?”  
  
Billy was leaning against the door, smiling. Dom couldn’t help but smile back. Billy’s accent was always more pronounced after a few drinks.  
  
“Just thinking too much. Maybe you should take the bed tonight—I can sleep on the couch.”  
  
Billy shook his head so vigorously that he almost fell over. “Can’t do that to my best mate. S’your bed, you keep it. Couch is fine.”  
  
“Billy—“  
  
“Look,” he said, pushing away from the door, “very soft. Comfy. Good couch. Right?”  
  
Dom reached out for his elbow. “Billy, watch where you’re—“  
  
Billy tripped over the television remote (which really shouldn’t have been on the floor in the first place). He did a wild spin to keep from falling, grabbing Dom desperately. They both ended up falling over the arm of the couch, with Dom landing heavily on top of Billy.  
  
“Ow,” Dom mumbled. “You’re not a very good pillow.”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Dominic. You’re the one who fell on top of _me_.”  
  
“Yeah, that I did,” Dom said quietly.  
  
“Dom?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Ye’re heavy.”  
  
“Oh. Sorry.” His face flaming, Dom moved to stand up.  
  
“No.” Billy put an arm around his neck. “I don’t mind.”  
  
  
“Billy…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“We can’t just stay here like this all night.”  
  
Billy nodded. “Ye’re right.” He placed a kiss on Dom’s collarbone.  
  
“Billy?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You’re not letting me get up.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Uh…why not?”  
  
A grin. “You don’t really want to go, do you?”  
  
Wordlessly, Dom shook his head.  
  
Billy’s voice was husky. “Thought not,” he whispered against Dom’s neck.  
  
The phone rang, surprising Dom so much that he fell off Billy—and the couch—hitting his head on the coffee table.  
  
“What the hell,” he grumbled, reaching for the cordless phone. “Who is this?”  
  
“Orli! Who else?”  
  
“Great. Wonderful. What do you want?”  
  
“Everything ok?”  
  
“Just fine,” Dom said, sitting up. “Is something wrong?”  
  
Orlando laughed. “No, you idiot! Just wanted to make sure that Billy was alright, and you’re alright, and everything’s alright.”  
  
Dom jumped as Billy put a hand on his shoulder. “Orli?” he mouthed.  
  
Dom nodded. Orlando was talking about Elijah and someone he’d left the bar with, and he wasn’t really listening.  
  
“Tell him to hang up,” Billy whispered. His hand ran up the curve of Dom’s arm.  
  
“Uh, Orli?”  
  
Billy’s hand was moving towards his neck, and Dom couldn’t think to save his life.  
  
“Hey, Orli. Gotta go. Someone’s at the door. Later, ‘bye.” He threw the phone over the couch. “What the hell are you doing, Boyd?”  
  
“What d’you think I’m doing?”  
  
Dom shook his head. “No. Don’t do that.”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“Answer a question with a question. What is all this?”  
  
“All what?”  
  
Gritting his teeth, Dom said slowly, “Billy. Boyd. What the hell was in that drink?”  
  
“You think it’s the drink that’s making me act this way?” With that, Billy fell back on the couch, shaking with laughter.  
  
“I’ve seen you drunk before, and you’ve never—“  
  
“—come on to you? Aye, I know that. My mistake. And if you’d shut up, we could get on with it already.” Billy propped himself up on one elbow to look at Dom. “Or have I gone too far?”  
  
Dom just looked at his hands, as if the answer was written there. They were scrubbed clean for once, free of any writing—not that it would have helped.  
  
Billy’s voice was soft. “Have I gone too far, Dominic?”  
  
Dom cleared his throat before saying, “No, Billy. You haven’t gone too far.”  
  
Dom couldn’t remember who made the first move—either Billy leaned up, or Dom leaned down, or they both leaned together—but then they were kissing, and it was just as good as before, except it was even better.  
  
And then all of Dom’s clothes fell off.  
  
And so did Billy’s.  
  
And it really didn’t matter that the couch was old and full of loose springs, because neither one of them noticed.  
  
**  
  
Dom woke up with a backache and pain shooting down his neck. “Damnit, this couch isn’t soft and comfy at all,” he muttered, trying to sit up. Billy’s arm was still around his neck, choking him.  
  
“What the fuck…?”  
  
Billy’s face was buried in his neck. Billy’s arm was thrown across him. Billy’s clothes were—where were Billy’s clothes?  
  
“Holy shit.” Where were _his_ clothes?  
  
“G’mornin’, Dommie.”  
  
“Billy?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You lied about the couch.”  
  
“’Course I did.”  
  
“Not that it matters.”  
  
“Nope, not at all.”  
  
“It wasn’t very comfortable to sleep on, though.”  
  
Billy yawned. “On the contrary. I slept just fine.”  
  
“That’s because you were sleeping on _me_.”  
  
“You make a much better pillow than me, Dom.”  
  
Dom grinned. “I’m a much better everything than you are, eejit.”  
  
“Oh, really? That’s not what you said last night.”  
  
“Screw last night.”  
  
“I thought that’s exactly what we did do!”  
  
“Billy?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Had you—did you ever—“  
  
“—done that before? Once or twice.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Well, I’d never—I mean, I hadn’t—“  
  
“I could tell.”  
  
“What, I wasn’t any good?”  
  
Billy sighed. “Of course you were. You were fucking marvelous.”  
  
“Of course I was.”  
  
“And modest, with it.”  
  
“I was the best you’d ever had, and you know it.”  
  
“Well, _I_ know that, but if I tell you that, then there’ll be no living with you.”  
  
“Billy?”  
  
“What now?”  
  
“So, that wasn’t just a drunken one-off, then?”  
  
“Sure it was. That’s why I’m laying here discussing it with you right now. That’s why I’m telling you how good you were last night. Because I never, ever want to do that again.”  
  
  
“Arse.”  
  
“Wanker.”  
  
“One more question?”  
  
“There’s no stopping you this morning, is there? Go on, then.”  
  
“How did you know that—well, I’d want to—“  
  
“At the bar. I mean, come on, Dommie. Shotgunning liquor? You can’t shotgun a drink.”  
  
“I know! I _said_ that!”  
  
“Didn’t stop you from ramming your tongue down my throat, now did it?”  
  
“You’re the one did that to _me_! And I—“  
  
“And I’ll be doing it again as soon as you shut up, Monaghan.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“So, that’s what it takes to shut you up? I’ll have to remember that.”  
  
“Fuck you, Billy Boyd.”  
  
“Anytime, Dommie. Anytime.”  



End file.
